Category: Self-Help

Cry for the little girl whose mommy always cries
Cry for the little girl whose daddy is never home
Who overhears loud fighting
And crashes in the middle of the night.
Cry for the little girl who stopped getting lullabies.
Cry for the little girl who had a nightmare one night
And who crawled into her mommy and daddy’s bed for comfort.
Cry for the little girl whose daddy touched her between her legs
Cry for the little girl who didn’t want to hurt her daddy
but she was getting hurt, too
So she hit him
And hit him
And hit him.
Cry for the little girl who went back to bed
Cry for the little girl who woke up confused, wet with urine,
And no one talked to her.
Cry for the little girl who made herself believe it was just her nightmare
The nightmare that she will have for decades to come.
The nightmare that will come back
Again, and again, and again, and again.
Cry for the little girl whose mommy started drinking
Whose lungs are burning and aching with smoke.
Cry for the little girl whose sister began to get angry
Who was placed in a dryer and had it turned on
Who was locked in a meat freezer
Who was electrocuted
And drowned
And beaten with a rock
And still has all the scars to prove it.
Cry for the little girl who slept outside one night
And no one noticed she was gone.
Cry for the little girl who slept outside for three weeks
And no one noticed she was gone.
Cry for the little girl who lost her virginity
And then he broke her rib
Cry for the little girl who was spit at, beat up and locked in lockers at school
Cry for the little girl whose mother threw chairs
And thought she was branded by Satan
And choked her daughters if they got out of line.
Cry for the little girl whose father was home now but too drunk to care.
Cry for the little girl who was drugged by boys
Again, and again, and again, and again
Cry for the little girl who started fantasizing about her father
Who loathed her own sexuality and was disgusted with her skin.
Cry for the little girl who fooled around with an older boy in a hot tub
Only to realize his friends were filming nearby
And what about that boyfriend that uploaded that video
The one of her going down on him to that porn site, cry about that too.
Cry for the little girl who was called a whore, a slut, easy, a piece of pussy, trash, loose, a bitch, a cunt, and such a fucking tease.
Cry for the little girl who had six,
Or was it seven
Fraternity boys attack her, rip her clothes off and throw them out the window.
Who went back home and had no one to tell.
Cry for the little girl who was raped by the neighbor boy
And still, 13 years later can’t drive down his road.
Cry for the little girl who was brave enough to leave and never look back.
Cry for the little girl who was raped again only one month later.
Remembering his piercing cold blue eyes, but was a total stranger.
Cry for the little girl whose doctor came in without gloves and forced himself inside her
Cry for the little girl whose masseuse went too high up her thigh
And wouldn’t stop, even when she cried.
Cry for the little girl who was assaulted three more times.
But can’t remember.
A silhouette of a person, an outline, a negative space cut out from reality.
Cry for the little girl whose memories began to evaporate from time
Cry for the little girl who was convinced by an older man that he could save her
Who just wanted to play with her
Who just wanted to use her, abuse her, degrade her, defile her, torture her and scar her
Again, and again, and again, and again
Cry for the little girl who was brave enough to leave and never look back.
Cry for the little girl who sought recovery.
Who faced her suicidal tendencies,
And her instincts to hurt and to hate.
Cry for the little girl who finally found her voice.
Once meager and weak
But now she could speak,
What a beautiful sound.
Cry for the little girl who learned about trust.
Not just in others, or herself, but in all of us.
Cry for the little girl who wanted her family again
And realized they were in more pain than her
So she cried for them.
Cry for the little girl who learned about love.
For the first time, feeling genuine care.
For being fearful of what she owed in return,
Realizing love is not a debt.
Cry for the little girl who learned how to make love.
With her spirit, her mind, her conscious body and her ever-grateful heart.
Cry for her joy, her returning childlike wonder, her intrigue with life.
Cry for her rejuvenation,
Her renewed sense of innocence
And Her resurrection.
Cry for the little girl that learned how to forgive.
Who prayed and cried for those who hurt her
For seeing clearly their pain like mountains over Her calm valley of water.
And once the tears have fallen, once they have rained into Her river
Watch them drift back to the sea
The vast horizon that is Her love
Not just for you, but for everybody.
Do not cry for the little girl, not anymore.
She does not want your tears.
This little girl has now lived for many years.
Cry for the sick, the disturbed, the tormented and weak.
Cry for their souls some refuge to seek.
Cry for their reflection, their need to introspect.
Cry for their lack of empathy and their inability to connect.
Cry for their healing, their cold and confused hearts.
Cry for our sake, for without their health we’ll all be pulled apart.
Our people are a hurting one, place your weapons down.
Speak up, trust, love
Only Her peace will be found.

Meditating last night, I found myself chanting “sit” on repeat. Going through my mala beads at least twice, maybe three times consistently reminding myself to “sit.”

“Sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, sit..” and so it went.

Having been born in a house of chaos, it’s been challenging for most of my adult life to sit still in times of uneasy emotional circumstances. Instinct tells me to run away from the feelings, either by moving to another apartment, city or even state. Instinct also tells me to lose all the friendships I’ve made, destroy or abandon them all and start anew. It’s fear-based, it’s fear that people are getting too close, it’s fear that tells me to run.

I’ve moved 20 times in the last 12 years because of this flight-based instinct. I have recreated my life and developed new friendships more than I can count. Only showing people what I want to show them and leaving the rest as the past, fearing judgment, criticism or inability to relate.

Sitting in uncomfortable moments where our anxiety is high, our emotions are abusively loud and our hearts are aching, are signs of true growth. If I can sit quietly with my pain long enough, I can uncover the root of the disturbance. In this circumstance, like most children of alcoholics, my root was and usually is, loneliness.

I was alone in my childhood. My dad traveled 90% of the time. He was home for maybe 1 weekend a month for 15 years. When he was home, he was devastatingly drunk. To put this into perspective, my dad usually drank about a half gallon of vodka a night. So when I say he was drunk, I mean he was terribly drunk. That led to fights, slurs, stumbles, accidents, hurt and eventually him passing out with a lit cigarette in his hand – to which I often put out at the end of the night when I heard it was finally quiet, and safe.

My mom started out as a very loving and doting mother. But, from the years of isolation and an inability to self-reflect or grow on her own, she too began to drink as a coping mechanism. Alcoholism ran in her family as well so it came as no surprise why she married a drunk or why she herself found it easy to treat her symptoms with alcohol. However, that left my sister and I very much alone.

I responded to this by becoming a classic internalizer. I felt so much of the responsibility in my household that when problems arose, I turned the blame on myself and wanted to mediate the entire family until there was peace again. Which, there could never be because alcoholism doesn’t allow that. I often found myself depressed, anxious and drained by the internal voice in my head constantly criticizing and accusing me of things I’d never really done.

Because of this internal monologue, I decided it was probably better for me to just live in the woods, so that’s what I did. I retreated inward, into my dark cave of anger, confusion, hormones, self-hatred and dying light of childhood and went into the woods. I slept under the stars, exhaled the sunrise, listened to fawns gingerly walking towards me on the ever-so-loud crunchy autumn leaves. And in this solicitude, I started to find some semblance of peace. But, I also found loneliness.

It took me another 10 years to figure out how to quiet my mind, sync in with myself and my world and my love and realize that I’m never alone. It took me 10 painstaking years of dating, promiscuity, drinking, drugs, depression, anger, boxing and eventually deep-healing for me to fill that often-referred-to as “God-sized” hole inside of myself.

Now, when I hear myself chanting “sit,” I remember that fawn walking on those leaves. I see the slideshow of grief and moves and echoes of myself – and they all remind me that I am here, I am whole, I am worthy and I am forever surrounded by love because I am love. Fear was only a self-induced mechanism to aid in my survival. Loneliness was just another label for something I didn’t understand, which was quiet.

To friends that are close with me, I say that my purpose in this life is unconditional love. But that statement is such a short cliff note of what I truly mean. First of all, I think saying that I have a purpose is like saying a single ant’s purpose is to build a colony for it’s queen. When from a grander perspective, ants as a whole, aerate the soil so water and nutrients can flow directly to plant roots, they serve as food for birds and lizards, and they distribute seeds by storing them in their tunnels.

I don’t know what my humanly purpose is much like an ant doesn’t know what his ant-ly purpose is. However, I do think what I choose to focus on here is important and my focus is unconditional love.

Nine years ago, when I realized that I wouldn’t make the kind of money I needed as a photojournalist, I was heartbroken. I had $23,000+ in student loan debt and I lived in California, one of the most expensive states in the U.S.. I didn’t want to move back home and I was freelancing for (sometimes) 90 hours a week to pay my bills. I lived comfortably, which was a step up from being homeless. Something I also experienced for a month straight out of college. I was grateful for the roof, the food, the work – but I was also alone in my apartment every single day for a year.

After I ‘gave up my dream of becoming a photojournalist,’ I realized that I could look at things in three different ways:

That I gave up my ‘dreams’ and my ‘purpose’ and I sold out.

That I chose a career that provided me financial security, while I could still pursue my passions in life: photography & journalism.

That I can dream, that I can envision a pursuit for my life. Acknowledge that gift, and realize I can do anything else I want and it can change at any time.

I chose the third. (And a little bit of the second). Once I realized that my career, and my financial well-being were not determining who I was or what I wanted to represent, that freed me up to dream even bigger. And believe me, as someone who has spent 9 years dedicating her life to unconditional love – this is the biggest thing I can think of still to this day. And that brings me to my next point. What’s so important about unconditional love?

The reason why I chose this as my study and my important life’s work is to receive an endless and infinite answer. Love, time, and the universe are pretty much all I think about. They’re definitely all I write about and my poetry can’t seem to find anything else to grip on to. I tried writing a poem about a day in the life of my cat and that turned into a love poem too.

Unconditional love is a daily practice. I have to give it to myself, try to receive it from the world, bestow it to others – even to people that I may be mad at for not using their blinker. Seriously though, it’s so easy, I just don’t understand.

Sometimes unconditional love means boundaries. Sometimes it means ending a really loving, authentic and genuinely happy relationship because you know you aren’t right for each other and you’re enabling your partner. Sometimes it means saying goodbye to your dad every day so you can love yourself and heal. Sometimes it means ending friendships because they aren’t healthy for you. Sometimes it means being honest and admitting something you don’t like about yourself. Sometimes it means putting your cat to sleep because she has diabetes and is about to go unconscious into a coma.

Sometimes you have to receive it, even if you don’t feel worthy. Sometimes it feels too beautiful and too good to be given to you. But sometimes, it’s easy though, too. It’s all around and ready to be felt and absorbed and accepted and then churned inside of you to be handed over like a gift to passersby. It’s in the sound of the wind, the dancing fall of the yellow leaf, the mother gently caressing the soft cheek of her young baby and the woman pushing her elderly dog in a stroller.

Sometimes unconditional love is selflessness, and other times it’s compassion. Every day it reveals itself in a new, beautiful and expansive form. Every day I learn something new about people, about myself and about my important life’s work. One day I will even figure out the words to describe what I’ve learned. Until then, I’ll just write love poems.

Unconditional
You are the first name I hear upon waking,
The wind dancing in my hair.
When the sun turns gold
And the light feels old,
I hear you once more.

I miss my dad so much right now. Today it’s been exactly one month since his passing. I miss so many things and it all floods into my awareness at the same time. I miss his voice, and the way he said, “I love you.” The other day I recalled how my dad would congratulate me for doing something good at work. He used to always say, “You’re kickin’ ass and takin’ names, sweetie.” Tonight, I miss how he would tell me everything was going to be okay and that he knew I’d figure it out because he raised a strong young woman. I miss his confidence in me.

We only really got to know one another over the last 8 years and that time together meant so much to me, especially now in retrospect. I remember that evening so well. I was standing out on our back porch by the pine tree that sits outside of my window. It was summer, one of the last summers I spent with my family in Michigan. The sky was glowing lava red with splashes of blood orange and yellow. I miss those summer sunsets.

My dad walked out, cocktail in hand. At the time, his cocktail of choice was a large glass of vodka with about a teaspoon of club soda and grapefruit juice. He walked right up next to me, stood silently for a few minutes and then very clearly asked if I thought he was an alcoholic. I said, “I can’t answer that for you, Dad. Do you think you have a problem with drinking?” He said “no,” with a sweetness that came across as quite genuine. I said, “Well then, turns out you’re not an alcoholic.”

He then proceeded to apologize for not being a very good dad but that he’d like the opportunity to try. I told him I’d really like that. That all I wanted was for him to be interested in my life, and to participate in my life with me. The sunset faded to a haze of purple and pink, and from that day on, my dad was more present with me than he ever had been. He asked me questions about work, my friends, my boyfriends and never gave me suggestions unless I asked. He was a very good dad.

Alcohol, poor diet, lack of exercise and smoking is what inevitably killed my father at the young and abrupt age of 66. He had advanced cardiovascular disease that went undiagnosed and his body just shut down. I do believe my dad drank too much, and I believe it was an old and bad coping mechanism. I think he did it to relieve stress, to not feel, to entertain himself, to numb his boredom, to forget even. Because of some of the tragic things that happened throughout my childhood, I think he bore a lot of guilt and shame. And unfortunately, he was not willing to confront those demons.

I’m grateful I said everything I wanted to say to him. I’m grateful I had the courage to heal myself, confront my own resentments and hurts and then love my dad wholeheartedly for 8 years. I’m grateful that I was able to enjoy his company, his humor, his mocking my “libralism.” I’m grateful that he put in the effort, something I noticed every single day. And just two days before he passed, he left me what might have been his first voicemail ever, where he congratulated me on my new apartment and how everything was going well over there. He called me sweetie one last time. He said I love you one last time. I’m so grateful for all of that.

There is a special bond between a parent and their child. If you currently have an estranged or messy relationship with one or both of your parents, but hope in your heart that you can somehow make it fruitful, I would like to stand up and say that it is possible. I worked tirelessly at reestablishing my relationship with my father and I was able to. And then, I was able to enjoy him for the remainder of his years. A gift I wish I could give everyone.

Gratitude for the shiny moments you get with someone truly special is what turns grief into happy remembrance.

Relationships can be so difficult. No matter what type of relationship; a father and daughter, friendships, or in your circumstance, with your long-term committed partner. I too have cheated in the past, and I commend you on reestablishing your relationship and working through the broken trust, the betrayal and the hurt. That is no small feat. You faced shame, self-loathing and depression. You self-reflected and internalized and came to a realization that you still loved the man you hurt and then you stood vulnerable in front of him and asked for compassionate forgiveness.

I am sorry to hear this newly reignited relationship isn’t what you thought it would be. I’m sorry it’s causing you confusion and discomfort. Here are some things that I hope might bring you some relief:

This pain is temporary.

You don’t have to make any decisions today.

You had mentioned wanting to know yourself. That, if you did leave your partner, it was only to discover what you truly wanted and needed. I will say, with understanding love, that you can do this regardless of circumstance. Emotional work is similar to any other kind. As an example, my husband used to say, “If we had more light in this apartment, I’d be able to do more work.” “If we had thicker walls where I knew my music wouldn’t be heard by others, then I would practice more.” “If I just meditated regularly, went to yoga every day and ate a consistently healthy diet then I would feel more mindful.” Those are all very likely and accurate statements. However, we only have control over so much. Circumstances won’t always be perfect. That’s like saying that in order for a flower to grow, they require the perfect amount of water, sunshine, space and nutrient-rich soil. But sometimes, like in L.A., we see flowers sprouting from concrete!

Now, I’m not saying that you should stay in an unhappy relationship by any means. But I am giving you permission to look for opportunity for change exactly as you are now. Here’s a beginners guide to help you figure out what you might need to find balance in your life. And this balance might eventually help you discover who you are:

Am I in a safe place to practice self-love? (Is this relationship healthy enough for you to stay and work on yourself?)

If you do not feel like you can take the time to practice self-love in this relationship, then you may need to take some solo time to learn to love yourself. Then try to figure out why and how you got into a relationship that didn’t place importance on self-love and personal growth.

Back to the basics:

Have I been drinking enough water?

Have I been eating well?

Do I get enough regular sleep?

Have I done any form of exercise? (even a 10-minute walk a day)

Do I get regular amounts of sunshine?

If you feel like you have not been taking care of these areas of your life, start slowly, and then monitor the progress.

Below is a list of areas in personal life; what feels like it needs the most work?:

Intellectual (am I learning, reading, expanding?)

Mental (do I feel depressed, anxious, restless?)

Emotional (have I felt erratic, chaotic, confused?)

Physical (am I tired? Lonely? Does my body ache?)

Spiritual (do I feel purposeless, aimless or stagnant?)

Each one of these areas is a key component to your self-love practice. Each one has a new and separate solutions and a variety of ways to access the answers. If anyone reading this wants to know the best way to answer some of these questions – please reach out and I’ll write a separate post on how I’ve trained myself to look intently and honestly at these aspects of my life to find a more comfortable daily balance.

What do I like?

This is a very important step. Determining what you like, what you enjoy and how you can do more of it is crucial in understanding yourself. Do you like to bake? When was the last time you did that? Why has it been so long? Can you do more of it, and regularly?

How can I communicate this to others/my partner?

It’s one thing to know that you are taking care of yourself, to know that each area of your person is supported and loved by YOU and that you are fulfilled in the things you enjoy doing in life – and it’s another to TELL someone all of this and see if they align with you. Being rigorously honest is not confrontation. Let me repeat that for the cheap seats:

BEING RIGOROUSLY HONEST IS NOT CONFRONTATION.

Sometimes I talk to friends and they are scared to tell their partners how they truly feel or what they truly want because they are afraid of their reaction. We have no control and no responsibility over other people’s reactions. It is, however, our responsibilities as partners and as humans to say what we want, what we like, what pleases us and displeases us and it is up to the other human on how they choose to respond to this. None of this has to be confrontational – we can be rigorously honest with love, compassion, kindness and empathy.

Once you meet yourself, it’s very easy to be honest with others. It’s usually in the “space in-between” when we feel like we are confrontational because we want to place blame on them for not telling us what we want. Or we are so confused with our own internal systems that we can’t tell someone else what’s going on because we have no idea what’s going on!

The 5 steps above can take time. It is a daily practice for me, but it took me months, if not years, to fully learn how to satisfy the various aspects of my personality. So be patient with yourself. Be gentle, kind and patient. No one really teaches you how to love yourself – unless you had kick-ass parents! Most of us are just clumsily trying to figure it out on our own. But, in my life, the best way for me to learn who I was – was by looking at myself openly, honestly, raw, and real. The shiny spots and the dark spots. The kitty-shelter volunteer and the girl who had an affair with a married man. The liar and the granddaughter that called her grandpa every Sunday for a year when he was depressed and lonely. No one is perfect. We all have done something that we tragically wish we hadn’t – but I do not regret any step I’ve made on my path because it brought me closer to myself, closer to my universal architect and closer to you. I’m more human and more myself today than I was yesterday.

I hope you find this helpful in getting to know yourself, loving yourself and being able to communicate more lovingly and authentically with your partner. Thank you for opening up to me and trusting me. You are so loved.

“We’re all told that we can make our dreams a reality, that you can turn your passion into your career if you try hard enough and never give up. But in the practical sense, if you’ve put 4 years, thousands of dollars and then invested 10 years into a career, how much can you really expect to still go for that dream? It’s never too late, but how do we decide when to transition and how to transition and if it’s a good idea and if we’re ready?”

First of all, thank you. Thank you for reaching out, thank you for participating and thank you for asking such a wonderful question – one I’ve asked so many times, and still continue to ask myself.

I went to college to study photojournalism, a career I still admire to this day. I also still cherish and delight in photography and I even get paid for it! I’ve been published in newspapers and I’ve even received notes and had calls with National Geographic editors. But, I’m not a photojournalist. I work at a small Consumer Packaged Goods advertising agency.

I’ve dreamed of becoming a great many things – a criminal psychologist, translator for government agencies, a baker, teacher, and even a blimp driver (which turns out is just a pilot and requires way more work/education/money than I actually thought necessary). Then, I wanted to become a photographer, a journalist, a graphic designer, website designer, and videographer. So I did. I studied, I spent tens of thousands of dollars, years of my life, and even more years of my life paying back the tens of thousands of dollars.

Yet, here I sit – a non-photojournalist.

I think it’s less about “transitioning” and “when it’s a good idea” and more about the making your dreamsa reality part. I don’t consider myself a Director of Business Development at an advertising agency. I consider myself a cat-mom, a stargazer, a wannabe poet, a yogi, a Buddhist, a photographer, a journalist, a see-er of the unseen, a friend, a wife, sister, daughter, aunt (none of this is in order, I feel like I should rearrange this list).

What I’m trying to say is, if you’re unhappy – change it. I wanted to write, so I started to write. I wanted to take more photos, so I started taking more photos and now I’ve booked so many gigs (paid!) that I have had to outsource to colleagues from school. I want to do my graphic design, website design, videography and be a boss lady – so I work at an ad agency. Sometimes you don’t really need a full-fledged plan just to begin. You can just begin.

If the day comes where my photography can provide the type of lifestyle I want, then I will have a new choice to make. If the day comes where my writing can provide the financial security that I have now, a new choice. If the day comes where my infamous no-sugar, no-wheat, totally vegan pancakes (which are actually totally amazing) somehow land me my own cooking show, again, another choice. Until then, I am responsible for my activities, the experiences that make up this human expression on Earth. So, I’m doing all the things I wanna do – time, energy and sanity be damned!

Sit somewhere comfortable, somewhere warm and cozy and ask yourself, “what would make me feel fulfilled?” When I asked myself this, my gut-punch answer was “I want to write and I want to photograph.” So here I am, writing a post at 11:30pm before a full work day because I want to write and when I’m done writing this, I’m going to scour through my files for a photograph I took to post with it. Find your gut-punch answer and then you’ll be surprised how much more time you suddenly have in a day.

Inspired by Robert Frost’s poem yesterday, I wrote the following poem. But before we get into that, I want to share a little bit about silence. I spoke with my cousin last night who was distraught upon finding out her best friend had been hit by a car. He was seriously injured, but alive. She told me about how when she found out, she called multiple friends but no one answered. She felt “alone in the universe, I just felt like I was left floating there.”

I remember this feeling back in my depression, I felt so alone and unheard, unwanted and living in fear. Just as she was. I explained to her that the unhealthy side of our brains, the parts of us unhealed, hurting, the addictions, the self-indulgences, the justifications, the instant gratifications, etc. That side always tells us bad things. Our brains are hardwired to make us feel better – at whatever the cost. When we were hungry as primal creatures, our brains would solve problems to get us nourishment. When we needed shelter, we would creatively find a solution. That has not changed, only our problems have.

We now need to be “perfect;” warm, comfortable at all times, loved by everyone, successful, eat the most balanced diet, post only the most beautiful pictures on Instagram, and have the most loving and adoring relationship. This list goes on and on. Our brain is constantly trying to give us the best solutions to all of our problems. For those of us who have unhealthy tendencies; eating to cope with stress, suicidal thoughts, using sex, drugs, alcohol, etc. It’s very easy to let that side have the loudspeaker. But there is another side.

The healthy side, in that moment for my cousin, was telling her to take some silence. No one answered the phone calls, but the universe answered the real call. Be quiet in your grief, in your fear, in your hurt. She wasn’t alone in the universe, because she was WITH the universe. And this beautiful world wanted her to make a healing wish for her friend and for herself. Sometimes, silence is the answer. That is where we grow, evolve, learn and understand ourselves more fully.

Our greatest strength, our greatest wisdom and our greatest kindness is silence. That is our original song. Silence and love.

The Original Song
Never have I met someone like you
Apologetically heroic while healing hearts.
Kind severity that stares straight through
Unabashed, unadulterated, a destiny long overdue,
Spoken softly, a secret of honey burns at our hearths.

Love letters left on pillowcases,
Sunsets seeping from the text;
A humanity overwhelmed with familiar faces,
Flowers filling up the blank spaces –
In between the places like lovers might suggest.

Words falling short and gracelessly falling out,
Inexplicable in nature, what a marvel you are
Like God himself is even devout.
The land lacking light, without and in drought
And then you, like Renoir, painted the sky with heaven’s first star.

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A blurb about me

Born into a chaotic home, riddled with mental illness and alcoholism, I have dedicated my life to healing and helping others.

Through writing, reading and years of recovery I have learned to have love and compassion for myself and others (even my abusers). I’d like to help fellow humans discover this gift of forgiveness, compassion and gratitude.

Through my poetry, I aim to expand my emotional healing and deepen my spiritual connection to the world, and her people around me.